The Outsider
by Nozidoz
Summary: For Dana, all she needed to boost her successful career was one more story. Not just any story, no-it had to be her big break. But traveling to Gotham City in search of that particular story just might have been the biggest mistake. Nolanverse.
1. preface

**A/N: Alright. So, I have returned. And yes, I'm now currently obsessed with anything Batman. The Dark Knight has inspired me to write, so here is one of my stories. This may seem confusing at first, but once I post up the following chapters, this preface will make sense.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for Dana Jury. Tis all. **

**Preface**

"So this is it, huh?" I asked, frustration oozing from my voice. "You're just going to dump my body here, then act as if none of this ever happened?" He didn't respond. That worried me.

I took a moment to mimic the silence, hoping to observe more answers visually rather than attempting to beat down the masked man and probably quicken my death sentence.

The building was very dark, all thanks to the poorly lit droplights that swung back and forth from the ceiling. Most of them didn't even have a working bulb. So the darkness grew, making me more and more wary of my current predicament. I looked at him quickly, but shot my eyes elsewhere when he glanced over.

The walls were a sick copper color; grungy, beaten, distorted-much like the man's mask. This was definitely a hide-out for him, or at least some sort of common dumping ground. It was obvious by the slick, confident stride he held as he glided through the questionable pathway.

"Over here," He rasped from underneath the mask. He rushed forward, grabbing my tied wrists as he then began to drag me forward, pulling me into a black doorway. The contents of the room were a complete mystery. I couldn't see a thing, but what I smelt…that was what triggered the curiosity. And a little fear, as well.

"Inside," he ordered, but nudged me with his arm before giving me a chance to act out the order myself.

I was in the darkness. Not alone, but I sure as hell felt like it. The longer I was in there, the more my body began to tense. My head slowly began to throb, and my nose tingled and grew numb from the odor that continued to contaminate the room.

"Where am I? What's going on-John, John? Where are you?"

He curled one hand over my shoulder, and then pushed me forward, guiding me toward something. When we stopped, I froze. I didn't know what I was supposed to do, if anything. But that worry was solved when he pulled out a chair from somewhere in the darkness, and shoved it underneath me.

I sat.

I waited.

And suddenly there was light.

But what I saw was something I could hardly believe.

"Surprise, Dana."

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed that little teaser. Expect the first chapter soon. Reviews are great, by the way. I'd love to hear what you think. **


	2. one

A/N: Just so that I am perfectly clear, which I'm pretty positive that I am, this is meant to be Nolan verse

**A/N: Just so that I am perfectly clear, which I'm pretty positive that I am, this is meant to be Nolan verse. So don't get confused, or think that it is based off of the comic style, animated style, or previous/Burton Batmans. Because it is not…Even if I love those as well. Well, first chapter-hope you like. Please let me know if you have any ideas or questions about it. I'd be more than interested to answer them.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for Dana Jury, and her work buddies-etc.**

** When Simple Things Just Don't Cut It**

**.one.**

God I hated her. I hated the way she talked to Andrew, my assistant, and I hated the way she dressed, flashing off her ugly-ass body, but pretending that somehow she held a figure better than Angelina Jolie.

The woman was a complete fake; a wench, and an opinionated colleague.

Her career and success was an honest-to-god mystery, and I had every moment of her pathetic reputation doodled in my black mini notebook.

Although we had another group meeting, which was actually rather droll, I still managed to find time to sneak away into my scribbling, penning down my detestation for the 24 year-old journalist.

She sat across from me at the large, rectangular meeting table. Her smug smile brightened by cheap lipstick, and even cheaper motives. She purposefully sat across from Andrew, flashing off her expensive cleavage in an awful zebra patterned dress. God, she looked like she fell into a zoo, squishing all of its finest inhabitants into her undersized nighty. Someone needed to smack her face. Somehow that girl had to drop the high school act and realize she was competing with New York's best. Or, soon to be best.

No body would do a thing about her. She was their little princess, their eye candy, and an easy way to get predictable (and disgusting) viewers.

Still. I hated her. I really did. Not just because she constantly tried to steal my best friend, my partner away from me. No, she had no business working at the New York Times at all. Seriously, I could accuse Mandy Mellbrooks of many things-things that everyone pretended were just rumors which, of course, they had never heard of in the first place. Well, I knew it. I witnessed it. And I hated her.

"We've got to hit back hard," Charles went on, pumping his fist into the air eagerly, distracting me from my fuming illustrations.

"We need hard-hitting stories! Things that the world can look at and say, 'Wow! I'm glad I read the New York Times this morning.,' not 'hell, maybe I'll just go online and read someone else's crap,' got it?" The majority of us laughed. But even as we quieted our giggles, and slouched back in our fancy office chairs, we all knew Charles Jury was very serious. He had been that way almost all month.

"I know you hate it when I flay reality at you, and bombard you with demands for better journalism, but we need to get back on the field! I'm so sick and tired of hearing how successful Metropolis has become, or how this reporter won a Pulitzer Prize, or this station got this many views-I'M DONE WITH IT!" I arched a brow, observing the anger in his face. I swear, had our lives been animated, thick steam would have been shooting from his ears.

"Listen up, kids. We need to try harder. We need to get our act together, and start writing better articles. Covering intense stories-finding the truth underneath the gritty, greasy lies." A few people mumbled agreements, while the rest of us just simply nodded our head, or pushed forward in excitement to show off that 'well renowned' cleavage.

"So here are your assignments for the week," Our boss began, scratching his balding forehead with exasperation. "Jonathan, you're covering entertainment, Cassie-take care of the presidential candidate scandal story, will ya? Make it flashy, but true. Corbin, sports-and no more stories about intoxicated football players with Paula Abdul tattooed to their ass, got it?" Corbin nodded, but not without exposing a comical grin.

"And you, Mandy," He smiled, walking toward her-pressing his thick hand on her tiny (bony) shoulder. "You are going to cover that story I told you about, hmm?" She nodded, smiling sweetly. That drove me crazy. It was unfair. Unfair that some pompous, stupid girl with the mind of a teenager got all the attention.

Jealous? Maybe…

But who wouldn't be a little jealous if their daddy gave all of their attention to some cheap little brat? So, am I jealous? Yes.

"Andrew, you and Dana are going to cover world view. Show NYC some quality stories about the outside cities," He ordered, glancing at me with a grin. "Pack your bags, kiddies, you're going to Gotham." Andrew's jaw dropped just about the same time as my pen. It clattered to the table with a soft echo, rolling slightly, and falling into my lap.

"G-Gotham, sir?" Andrew piped up, completely bewildered. "Why Gotham? Sir, why send us all the way to Gotham City when, say, we could cover that hero story in L.A-

"Gotham, and because I said so." His voice was firm and unbinding. There wasn't any loophole out of there, at least not in front of everyone. If it were just daddy to daughter, there could be a possibility of changing his mind. Possibility being the operative word.

"Sir," I said, picking up my pen slowly. "Why exactly did you pick Gotham?" He narrowed his eyes, giving me the 'rebellious much?' vibe.

"Because tragedy sells. They've got monstrous messes, big issues, and plenty of uncovered stories. Now stop whining."

It was still unclear to me as to why my father would send us all the way to Gotham. It made no sense. It cost way more to fly us out there, and find a decent place to stay, rather than finding a better, and bigger location with plenty of less-disaster prone stories. I was convinced that there was something more. Something he wanted to get his hands on, perhaps something to bring our bland paper back to its golden prime.

I didn't waste much time demeaning Mandy after that. Sure, I was still super pissed about the diva getting probably the most exciting assignment, but I had more important eggs to fry. First of which, I had to confront my daddy about the far off gig.

It had been quite awhile after decent working hours. I was tired, and I pulled my blonde hair back into a haphazard twist. I drew my hazel eyes away from the monitor. I had been starring at it for hours, trying, somehow, to find any sort of major incident elsewhere that could help score us with an improved location. To my luck, I found one. It was in Denver, Colorado. A group of young girls were discovered living underneath an old house. Man was arrested, tapes taken in to custody, and it screamed perfect escape story. Still, I had doubts that daddy might change his mind. My father was stubborn. Rarely did he alter what he vocalized.

I stood up from my worn office chair and stretched. I had been cramped there all day. Before I headed for his office though, I managed to flatten out any wrinkles that developed in my grey slacks and ashen blouse.

I headed for his door, stopped, and knocked gently. When he beckoned me in, I obeyed.

"Hey, whatcha need, Dana?" He asked, still slouching at his own desk, glaring at article drafts within a dimly lit office. "I'm surprised you haven't left yet." I nodded, shrugging slightly. "Well, come in."

I did just that. I took a seat at the chair across from him, crossing my legs gracefully and folding my arms into my lap. He hadn't looked up yet. He was still observing the format, expressing a disgruntled moan.

"I take it you're here to discuss your travel arrangements?"

"Something like that."

He glanced up, finally.

"The answer is no. I still want the two of you in Gotham."

"But Dad-

"Dana, you're going. That place is chalk full of untouched press, and I really think they could use the help of an outsider to bring in and out information. They're going through harsh times, and you, my dear, are one tough cookie." I growled, glaring back at him. Our death glares were near matching. It was evidently something I picked up from him.

"You're just going to be stubborn about this, aren't you…?" I said, rubbing my temples for relief.

"Yep. Don't you want to experience the life of hard times and cutting edge stories? I thought that was what you dreamed of doing? You know, getting down and dirty with the real world." There was a pause for a moment, and then it broke off with the sound of our hushed chuckles.

"Wow, great word phrasing, dad. You construct sentences so well. No wonder you're editor and chief."

He shot me a dirty look, but couldn't help to smile afterwards. At least he had humor. But that didn't change my current predicament.

"So we're going then…?" I looked at him, tracing all lines of seriousness on his matured face.

"Yes. You and Andrew, both."

"Great…."

"It will be. It has to be. It's your job, and you need to put that career of yours first. Besides, Dana, you're so close to reaching a high in your career. Give me one more promising story and you've got yourself serious career advancement. You need this big break, kid, because when simple things just don't cut it, you have to strive for better."

With that, my old man stretched from his chair and made his way toward me. He placed a hand on my shoulder, resting it there-not moving. No more words; that was it. He had decided our destination, and sadly my 'good looks' and 'witty charm' had no affect on him. Not like Mandy, of course.

He leaned down and planted a kiss on my forehead.

"Now go home and get rest. You're leaving Tuesday, so tell that knuckle-head boyfriend of yours to book your flights by then."

I nodded, returned the kiss, and left.

"Tuesday? Ugh! He hates me, I swear! Doesn't he know that that's my grandma's birthday? She's turning ninety-two!" Sighing heavily, I tried to ignore the distant whining from the other end of the phone. I was in the taxi, on my way home. Andrew was upset. However, I had warned him time and time again that my girlish charisma, and the fact that I was his only daughter meant very little when trying to negotiate with him.

"God. This is going to be the worst trip ever…" He groaned, and I mimicked.

"Yeah, but once we get there, and get it over with, we can go out and celebrate-you know, get drunk, naked and rambunctious," I teased, relieved when I heard him chuckle on the other end.

"Drunk, yes-rambunctious-hopefully," he replied. "We all know you're all 'puritan' about that."

"Having morals, you mean?" I corrected, but teasingly. It was a personal issue, one he had a hard time dealing with-but still, I appreciated the jokes from time to time. It connected us, making our rather uncertain relationship fonder.

"Yeah, that."

"Well, that situation could be fixed, you know, if someone just proposed already." There was silence. Big mistake. I should have just kept my mouth closed, stopping at morality. Still, I knew I probably triggered something, whether it was good or bad, it didn't matter now. It had been done.

"Yeah, well…" He broke the silence. Thank God. "When the time is right, Jury, when the time is right."

"Alright then, Smith," I said, addressing him in the same manner, calling him by his last name. "I'm gonna go, the Taxi's parked. Call you tomorrow? Don't forget to book our flights. I'm serious."

"I know. I know."

"Good. Now I'll talk to you later, secret lover," I teased, and he laughed. Thankfully.

"Yes, dream of me, my sultry mistress." I couldn't help but smile. Sultry added such an appeal to it.

"Will do. Will do."

**A/N: Yes, I admit this was long and boring…but not pointless! Not completely, anyway. I just needed to explain her background and whatever. And in this story, I am making it seem like Gotham is quite far from NY. So just live with it. **

**Hope you like it, and chapter two will be coming shortly.**

**Review, if you will….**

**o(-)o**


	3. two

A/N: Third chapter

**A/N: Third chapter. Good for me! Hopefully you all are enjoying this. Now, I do promise more batman characters in the next chapters. Introductions are so boring, I know. Just grit your teeth and bear through it till the fun stuff. I swear. It will be good. is hopeful**

**This is set in Nolanverse Gotham.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anyone but, well, my made-ups. X3 Dana, Andrew, Charles, and Mandy-etc. Mine. Gordon? No.**

**Time to Make A Personal Call**

**.two.**

The flight to Gotham City had been long and dull. Andrew and I sat on the left side of the plain, starring out the window aimlessly, or entertaining ourselves by people-watching. You'd be surprised at how many nose-pickers existed in one flight. We were.

Darkness coated the sky, and each passenger began to doze off erratically. Andrew dozed off, slouching his body uncomfortably in his chair, but managed to rest his head on my shoulder. I smiled, and rolled my eyes when the loud snoring began.

Although it was a smooth and somewhat relaxed flight, the present boredom was overwhelming. Occasionally a flight attendant tiptoed by, asking me if I wanted anything. I denied just about any offer, except for peanuts of course. They were both tasty and delicious! Or nutritious…however the saying goes, I fell for them. I ate, oh, three bags worth? Somewhere along those lines anyway…

It was about nine in the evening when the Flight Captain woke us both, ringing in through the multiple speakers throughout the aisles. Yawning, I lifted my head off of Andrew's, and then stretched my arms. He cracked his neck and rubbed his blue eyes.

"We there yet?"

"Not yet," I said, listening to the captain's report.

"Almost, maybe fifteen minutes out. Bad weather though, so it might be a 'hazardous landing'," I mocked, planting a kiss on his forehead when he gave me a sleepy grin.

"Well, wake me when our fate has already been decided," He joked, lying his head down as he lulled back into another temporary sleep. I nodded, letting my arm wrap around his neck until my hand reached his head. I played with his black strands, curling his fine hair between my fingers. He was so lucky, being born with gorgeous black hair. Me? I was stuck with curly, thick blonde hair. Not exactly my favorite, but at least I could make it work with a little mouse, and a lot of hand-curling.

Twenty-five minutes later our plain had landed. We landed safely on the ground. People were grabbing their carry-on and heading for the hangar. I, however, sat contently with Andrew asleep. When the flight attendant came by, telling us that we could leave now (which was really a formal Barbie way of telling us to get the hell out), I nodded in understanding and turned to Andy.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," I said, huffing when he didn't even budge. The flight attendant looked un-amused. I then leveled my hand to his face, planting my thumb and index finger over his nose. The two of us grinned in satisfaction when he finally woke up, sharing with us something crossed between a cough and a choke.

"Wake up time, sleeping beauty," I said, roughing with his hair before I stood up, and moved out into the aisle. Andrew quickly followed, grabbing our carry-on and heading for the door.

"You've got to be kidding me!!" I roared, trying to lift my voice over the sound of rain plummeting to the ground like bullets. I was leaning over the ledge of the sidewalk, arm still up, trying to attract any taxi's attention.

"This is the third taxi to just SWOOSH on by!!" I growled, and Andy just shrugged. He had been that way most of the morning, ever since our plain landed and we were forced to walk the flooded streets of Gotham City. Alone.

Neither of us had ever been there, and for me, it was slowly becoming more and more frightening. It was huge. Bigger than huge-and so dark (yes, I know it was dark because of the storm outside and it being nighttime, BUT it still felt like it had a dark, ominous presence….no? Well, have you ever been?). Andrew, however, was very irritated. I, on the other hand, was surprised. No, shocked.

"No manners. No damn manners at all!" I continued, glaring down the black narrow street, expecting to see another empty taxi just speed past us.

"I don't know why you are so surprised," He finally muttered, curling up under his expensive jacket, his cold fingers clenching onto the handles of our bags tightly. "This is Gotham City. Biggest disappointment ever." I didn't know what he was going on about; it wasn't like he had ever been here. Still, the long flight, lack of nutrition and sleep was making us both unstable, and ready to wring necks. So set off on foot to find out hotel.

Although it was nearly a mile away, we made it. One step in front of the other, no wheels involved. When we got there, I was both proud and embarrassed. I was happy that we traveled the streets in the freezing rain, but also a little embarrassed when the people driving by would glanced at us. After all, it wasn't everyday that two highly paid New York journalists just strolled around Gotham, one in black pumps and a matching mini skirt.

"Oh thank god," I groaned, stepping into the foyer of the hotel, smiling as the warmth blanketed my damp skin. Andrew shook his head furiously, scattering the water around as if he were some sort of shaggy dog.

"Hey, it's warm." I just laughed. Of course it was warm! Perhaps the freezing rain had gotten to his head. Nonetheless, the two of us quickly strode for the front desk, knocking on the wood surface to grab the keeper's attention.

"Yo, what's uh, well, what can I do for ya?" We both looked at each other, Andy arching a brow.

"Um, we're here for our rooms. I booked one Friday, under Lester-Andrew Lester," He informed, glanced down at the young man's fidgety fingers as he scrolled down the page of 'guests' on the monitor.

"Oh. Yeah, um okay. Third floor. Room 207. It'll be 250 a night." Andrew nodded, swapping money for the room key.

We went into the elevator, groaning furiously when we figured out that it was 'out of order', no thanks to the lack of a warning sign. So we trudged up three flights of stairs, down the stuffy hallway, until finally we found our door.

Andrew swiped the key card into the slot, smiling when the door unlocked with ease. Pushing it open, he stepped in and I followed, but in more of a sprint.

I threw down the bags, bolting for the nearest bed. When I reached it, not knowing its full condition, I pounced-landing on my belly against the stiff mattress. I moaned, Andrew just laughed.

He flicked on the light switch, starring skeptically when the light bulb flickered several times, daring to burn out.

"Oh god…." He huffed, crossing his arms furiously against his chest. He stepped in slightly, eyeing the room's poorly kept display.

"I'd bounce off that bed, If I were you, Dana," He warned, gesturing the mess toward me with his finger.

"Wha-?" I looked down, gasping when I noticed the mess. The grey bedspread was crumpled and oily, stained with a strange black substance that looked similar to smoke stains. The walls were smeared with dirt and dust, not to mention the discoloration in the corners, and the water spots left on the roof. The window was cracked, the floor stained with God only knew what, and the bed stood at a tilt.

"I'm sorry; you're paying how much a night?"

"Shut up…"

"Andrew…"

"What?" I paused for a moment, breathing in shakily.

"I don't like this place…"

He groaned, tossing to the side of his bed so that he could face me, even if we couldn't see each other with the lights out.

"Well, neither do I, but we need sleep. We have that appointment at the Gotham News station tomorrow, so sleep."

That was the problem. I couldn't sleep. The air kept going on and off, leaving us freezing with a loud, haunting rattle, or burning us alive in the dead silence, occasionally being stirred by distant thunder. Either way we were screwed, and for 250 a night?! Hell no. I'd rather sleep in a box. At least I'd know whether or not that tingling in my foot was just my imagination, or an actual roach pestering about!

"Yeah, well, it's been two hours and I can't sleep. It's horrible here! Why the hell did you book us in the crap-hotel, hmm?!" I snapped at him irritably. I rolled around in the bed, unable to find a comfortable spot. I was stripped down into my black lingerie. Occasionally I would grab for my damp sweats, but ended up stripping them off when another wave of heat fell over us.

"Dana, just try and sleep…" I threw my fists down onto the mattress in a hissy fit.

"Try? What the hell do you think I've been trying to do?! Wait for some sort of magic trick?!" He smirked, rubbing his forehead.

"Well, what do you expect me to do, hmm? Ask if they could possibly put us in a less shitty shit-hole?" He sighed. Andrew, plus little sleep, equaled mad man. This wasn't even miffed. Still, for the grouch he was, he was exceptionally calm.

"Hey, it's a better than this…"

"No, not really," He laughed miserably. "They will all be the same, if not worse. Trust me." I arched a brow, sitting up now.

"Trust you? How can I trust you? You don't know either!" He didn't reply right away. So, I, being the impatient woman that I am, grabbed for the extra pillow and chunked it at him.

"Woman!! Just sleep!!" He threw the pillow back.

"I can't!! Andy, seriously. There is no way I am sleeping in a toilet-bowl room, not when it means picking up some mad disease, and possibly getting raped by huge, killer roaches!" And he was silent once again, but I sense the befuddled expression on his face. It was adorable, as well as being quite entertaining.

"Um, what?"

"Yeah, you heard me Mister," I hissed. I scooted to the edge of the bed, starring over at him-my eyes pleading.

"Dana…" He whined, sitting upward now as well. "I can't do anything right now. Where do you expect us to go?" I shrugged. Anywhere was better than here. I'd even settle sleeping on the street!

"I don't know…can't we just….can't we just go?" I asked before standing up and tiptoeing toward his bed. I sat on my knees, wrapping his hands in mine.

"Babe, there is no where else, okay? Just-can't you just bare with it for one night? I have my super rape repellent with me, okay? Just for you." I giggled, playing a curious grin.

"Well, at least I know SOMEONE carries rape repellent with them." He smiled, kissing my cheek.

"Hey, what can I say? The women can't keep their hands off of me."

I laughed, but the joy and humor in the moment was easily killed. All it took was one tiny, itsy bitsy shadow to catch my attention. It moved slightly, gesturing movement on Andy's shoulder. I frowned. So did he.

"Andy…." I whimpered, pointing to his shoulder now.

"Don't say it-Dana, j-just don't say it!" He cringed, eyes clamped shut.

"Spider!"

"Wha!"

Andrew shrieked in disgust, and shock. Quickly he bolted upward, flailing his arms wildly. He was up and out of that bed in a matter of seconds, spinning and bouncing in circles, as if attempting to detach the spider from him in some sort of ritual dance.

I just laughed. The spider had fallen off way before the hobbling about. I just watched though, amused by his terror.

Finally he stopped and stood, gasping for breath.

"Can we leave now?"

He nodded.

"Good. Got any ideas?"

He nodded again.

"It's time to make a personal call…" He tried to calmly walk toward the single dresser in the room. His body jittered slightly, and when he switched on the lights, I could see the red burning his cheeks. He grabbed charging cell, flipped it open, and began to dial a number. We both were silent. I could hardly hear the dial tone, and watched with hopeful eyes as the line on the other end, picked up.

"Hey, um, Charlotte? Hey, it's me, Andy. Uh-yeah, hi, um, I'm doing well. Yeah, um…I have a question to ask you…Is Mr. Earle there?" He sighed. Relief spreading on his face. I could relax, finally.

**A/N: Ugh. Long, pointless chapter, but now that the boring 'set up' is out of the way, the fun stuff can begin. So yes. Please leave a comment, any suggestions. Um…more familiar characters in next chapter, I swear! Also, sorry for any grammar mistakes I may have made. It is early, I am tired, and haven't gone over it three times. Usually I find more things during my third run, but I am posting this up anyway, and eventually I will get around to cleaning it up.**

**Enjoy.**


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